Christmas Letters
by zeilfanaat
Summary: A series of Christmas letters from a young Clint.


**Christmas Letters**

by zeilfanaat

**Category:** Drama/Family  
><strong>Ratings:<strong> PG/K+  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> DOC does not belong to me. The show was created by the Johnson brothers.  
><strong>Warning:<strong> Might get a little emotional.  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Tis The Season  
><strong>Summary:<strong> A series of letters from a young Clint.  
><strong>Challenge:<strong> i2eye Fan Forum's Christmas Challenge 2011  
><strong>AN:** Spelling mistakes are (mostly) on purpose. The words in bold are part of the challenge.  
><strong>Finished:<strong> 26th of December, 2011

* * *

><p>Dear Mistah God,<p>

Thenks for da **white elephant**! It iz reely sovt an' warm an' white. I kall him Snoopy coz Snooqy'z alzo white and momma likez Snoopy so I kall him Snoopy. My daddy sez I shooldn't put it in da korner, but I don't kno why, coz da Christmaztree is in da korner. Momma sez iz good Snoopy izn't pink. I agwee. I don' like pink.

Clint

P.S. Momma wrote this coz I don't kno how too write all da wordz.

* * *

><p>Dear Mistur God,<p>

Momma sez You hav a son an' thet You let him be borned coz You luv me an' momma an' daddy an' eferyone. So I jus wanna say I luv You too! I don' hav a son, but You can hav Snoopy. Hes a reelly good frend. I kno he'z a white elephant but he don't eat mutch. Not even **fruitcake**. I do eat fruitcake. I like fruitcake. Momma alwayz zcares daddy wif the **orange peel** in frond of her teeth.

Clint

One day later

Dear Mistur God,

Momma sez You gafe Snooqy to me so I can take care ov him. Don' worry, I'll take good care ov him!

Clint

* * *

><p>Dear Mister God,<p>

Yezterday Momma and Dabbddy and me went to the apquarium. We saw a **squid** and a man swimming with a **snorkel** zo he could braeth. Today we habd lotsa snow an' Daddy an' I built an **igloo** just like the ezkimoes an' we both had a **red nose** when Momma calleb us back inzide. I hoqe the snow will still be there tomorrow.

* * *

><p>Dear Mister God,<p>

Today there was no snow, dut that's ok, coz I played **hopscotch** with Sarah (she's a gurl and livez across the street, but she's ok for a gurl). Sarah got a **slinky** for Christmas. I had **silly putty** but Momma didn't like it in her neck. Did You ever play with silly putty?

Clint

* * *

><p>Dear Mister God,<p>

Momma said Christmas is not adout qpresents, coz it is about Jesus being dborn coz You love us and that is something to be haqqy about.  
>But could you maybe give my Dad something to make him less sad coz he's really sad?<br>I know Momma is with You now. Could You tell her I love her? I miss her and Dad misses her too.

Clint

* * *

><p>Dear Mister God,<p>

I'm sorry we didn't get to church today. Dad forgot to look outsibe first and thought the **garage door opener** was broken when the door didn't oqen. But it was coz we're all snowed in. We did have a lot of fun though. Dad and I fixed the chair that was broken and we hung a couple of pictures on the wall. Dad even let me use the **hammer**! Dad zaid I should be careful coz if I hit my thumdb we couldn't go to Doc Johanson quickly. I was careful though and I didn't hit my thumb. We played guitar too. Dad showed me how to play his favorite zong which is a Christmas song! It's called 'Silent Night'. Hope You like that song too. Got to go now. Love to Mom.

Clint

* * *

><p>Dear Mister God,<p>

I sang 'Silent Night' again today.  
>Mrs. Dottie doesn't understand why I only wanted to sing that song. It's because of Dad you see. Well, You understand.<br>I haven't cried. I don't know why. Mrs. Dottie says it's ok to cry.  
>It's odd. I like Mrs. Dottie and Doc Johanson, and I am kinda glab they're here. I still feel lonely.<br>Did You feel lonely when You sent your Son Jesus to the Earth?  
>I wish Mom and Dad were here.<br>I'm glad they're with You though.  
>Could You tell them I love them? And that they don't have to worry adout me? Dad said that even when he was gone that You are always be with me. I'm glad. And I think that if they're with You, and You're with me, then they're still kinda with me too. Right?<br>You don't have to tell them this, but I still have Snoopy. I don't know Mom's favorite song, but I know she liked Snoopy.  
>Mrs. Dottie is calling. Supper's ready.<br>Talk to You later.

Clint

* * *

><p>Clint sat back, leaning against the bed. Rereading these Christmas letters to God from his early years certainly brought back a lot of memories. He'd found them a few days ago when he'd been looking for some Christmas decorations. Next to him sat the old, faded white elephant, its stuffing squashed around its neck from intense hugs.<p>

It had been a while since he'd last written a Christmas letter. It was a tradition his mother had started, mainly by writing down what he'd said in his prayers. He had continued it up for a while, but at some point he had stopped, especially when the dyslexia had kept him from writing anymore than he strictly had to.

A determined expression came over him as he gathered the pile of letters in his childlike scrawl. He rose, grabbed Snoopy, and walked downstairs. Once there, he put the stuffed toy on the desk, sat down, and took out pen and paper.

"Dear God,

Thank You for all the blessings You've given me, not only in the past year, but in my entire life. Thank You for parents who taught me how to love and to live life while walking with You. Thank You for Dottie and Doc Johanson who took care of me as though I were their own child. Thank You for my beautiful wife, and for blessing us with two wonderful children. Thank You for leading me in my journey through this life. Above all, thank You for loving us so much that You sent Your Son to this Earth so we may live.

Clint"

He read it over once more, nodded, and folded it, putting it on the old pile. He would find a good place to keep those later. He left Snoopy where he was, and went over to the nursery. His daughter had fallen asleep in the arms of his equally asleep wife. His son however was awake, making burbling sounds. Not crying, just trying out the different sounds he could make. Upon his father's entrance, the boy happily started waving his arms in a non-coordinated manner. With a smile, Clint went over and took the young boy in his arms.

As he slowly walked through the room, Clint started humming. First some lullabies, but inevitably it turned to the favorite song of Ralph Cassidy. When the song was finished, Clint looked at his wife, only to discover that she had woken up at some point. She gave him a loving smile. No words were necessary. The house and their hearts were filled with peace.

**The End **


End file.
